Almost
by Degrazzi
Summary: Day one of 30 Days of Oneshots: He makes love to me like it's the last time we'll ever make love. I'm almost positive that it's not. Almost. Klare smut, future fic, rated M for mature.


**I'm doing thirty days of oneshots! This is number one!**

We sit at our kitchen table, like nothing has changed.

He eats the mashed potatoes that I made him like it's the last time he'll ever eat mashed potatoes. I'm almost positive that it's not.

Almost.

"Clare, this dinner is great. Thank you." He sounds so grateful for such a small gesture. I'll miss the appreciation that he gives me over the little things. I'll miss giving him appreciation in the same way.

I nod at him, for I know not what I should say here, and tears are already making their way down my cheeks.

"Please don't cry," he says softly, "we found our way back to each other once. We will again."

"I just don't want you to go." I plead, but I know it's useless. His heart is _set_ on this. He thinks it's the best thing for him to do. He thinks it will make him a better man, open up opportunities for him, and provide us an income on which we can thrive. He thinks serving our country is the solution to his problems.

He's probably right.

He ships out tomorrow, to God-only-knows where for an undetermined amount of time.

I know this isn't fair to me. It's_ not _fair that KC is leaving me again. In no way do I deserve this abandonment! We've been together for over two years now. We share an apartment. He was my first for almost everything and I can't picture waking up in the morning to anything but his face. It's not fair that he is leaving me.

But is it fair to beg him to stay?

"We could get married," I suggest, "have a family? Buy a house? Please?"

I know I sound pathetic right now, but I have to try. I can't just let him leave without knowing how much I need him here.

"We will. Someday. When I get back."

I smash my napkin between my hands and throw it onto the table. I can't eat this dinner and pretend that everything is fine. I can't pretend like he will be here with me tomorrow. It hurts too much.

"Let me know when that day comes." I seethe, and stomp over to our room before collapsing face first onto our bed.

I feel hands on my back, rubbing in the gentle way that only _he_ knows I adore.

He scoops me up in his arms, and I feel so safe. I won't feel safe when he is gone, I just know it. He holds me like a baby, rocking me gently and whispering beautiful things in my ear.

I'll miss his big arms and the sound of his whisper. I'll miss his plump lips. I'll miss the look in his eyes when we are about to be intimate, and the sleepy look that he gets after we are finished. I'll miss the showers that we take afterward, and how he is the only man on Earth who makes me feel comfortable with my body and completely sexy at the same time.

KC Guthrie was my first boyfriend in high school. He was the first guy to ever break my heart. He was the only guy who came back and refused to leave me again. He didn't just ask me to forgive him for the past; he gave me thousands of reasons why I should.

At the risk of sounding utterly cliché, KC is the love of my life.

"I don't want to leave you, but I know it's for the best. One day, you'll see it too."

I whimper and melt into him further, trying to cement the feeling of his warmth into my skin. I don't want to forget how warm he is. I don't want to forget the subtle scent of pine that lingers on his skin and in my senses. I tug on the bottom of his t-shirt and inch it up to feel his abs. He shivers beneath my touch and I push my lips against his.

He sits up from the mattress, and I lift his shirt up completely. For a moment, I just stare at him. Every inch of him is perfect and the subtle throb between my legs seems to grow.

"I need you, KC." I say, and I hear the sticky suggestion in my own voice. In a matter of seconds, I am on my back and he is hovering over me, playing a furious tugging game with each article of my clothing. I love the look of need in his eyes when he stares at my breasts, whether clothed or unclothed, and lifts his hand up to caress one.

In a matter of seconds, we are both completely nude, and he is pressed against my body, my nipples against his, his thighs against mine, his hardness on my wetness and our ankles locked together in a way that can only be described as sensual. He slows things down and leans to kiss me. The kiss is bursting with love and lust and desire, and I forget almost everything but the wetness of his mouth and the bruising erection that the rubbing against my intimacy.

I gasp at the contact and he leans down to whisper in my ear, "You like that, Clare?"

His dirty talk always gets to me, but I try to refrain for showing him just how much. His cock moves on my clit in a torturous rhythm, and I can already feel the bubbling feelings of pleasure rising in my core.

"You're getting so wet." KC breathes and picks up the rhythm of our sex dance. His hands are gripping onto my breasts, applying just enough pressure to enhance my satisfaction. He groans in my ear and the sound sends tingles up and down my spine.

He stops his motions and I whine angrily at him. KC looks down at me and smiles cockily. "Just let me grab a condom."

"No!" I practically yell at him. I grab the hand that it digging through our bedside table and hold it. He jumps at my outburst before furrowing his brows at me. I feel self-conscious now. "I want to feel all of you. Just this time… Before you go."

He is holding back a smile, but I know the statement is semi-worrisome to him. "What if you get pregnant?" He asks.

Maybe it sounds crazy, but I don't care. I sit up, plant a kiss on his lips and say, "We can handle it."

In this moment, I know it's true. This isn't grade ten for KC anymore. This isn't the choice between feeling pleasure and being safe; this is two adults, with hearts full of love for one another, choosing to be as close as two people can be. He is more mature now, older, wiser and able to take care of a child and a baby if the situation arises. So when he slides into me, and practically groans at the feeling, and I do the same, I feel no worries.

The knowledge that he is completely inside of me, and there is nothing between up to inhibit the pleasure of the moment just intoxicates me. My head is swimming and my lower half is tingling and contracting on his largeness. Each thrust hits my g-spot and my nails dig eagerly into the skin of KC's back. He leans over and places an open-mouth kiss on my neck, and judging by his breathing patterns, he is feeling just as overcome as I.

He takes my right nipple into his mouth and swirls his tongue over it before reaching between us to rub on my clitoris. This pleasure is all-consuming. "I'm going t-to… KC…" I breathe out, and suddenly the air leaves me lungs. I fly up from the bed and grip onto his dirty blonde locks as waves of extreme euphoria just attacks me. He doesn't stop thrusting, and my orgasm intensifies with every movement of his hips.

"KC, oh God! Oh God." I scream, and his hips move erratically. I feel warmth shoot into me deeply, and KC's mouth drops open as he deposits his load into me. We come together, and everything just feels perfect. He collapses on my chest and rests his head between my breasts. His member is still deep inside of me, and I feel so whole. Complete, really.

Then, I remember what is happening tomorrow. I guess he has the same thought, because a few tears slid down my breasts and he reaches up to wipe his face.

"I love you." I say, because after the intimacy of this night, nothing else would be appropriate.

"I love you more, Clare. Don't forget."

I nod and rest my hand on his face, which is still cuddled between my mounds.

He looks up at me and smiles, despite the tears in both of our eyes. I return the smile, and he hooks his mouth onto my left breast. "Again?" I ask him, and he nods while working on my tender nipple.

He resumes his thrusting inside of me, and I don't even care how messy things are getting. There are fluids everywhere, and I know I have to wash the sheets tomorrow. I just want to make love to him over and over again. This time, he goes slowly, and we cry on each other as we orgasm, and we cry in each other's arms before we go for a third time.

We lay in our bed, like nothing has changed.

He makes love to me like it's the last time we'll ever make love.

I'm almost positive that it's not.

Almost.

**Okay, day one is over! I hope you enjoyed this bit of Klare smut. Even though KC hurt her, I've always had a soft spot for these two. Please review if you want, and leave prompt requests in my Tumblr inbox. My name on there is Degrazzi. Thanks!**


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